Grown-ups cry too [Archives:2006/953/Community]

By: Manal
When I was three years old I did not exactly realize what was happening around me and could not understand what adults talk about or think of. As a small child, I was used to crying and screaming just to be given one dirham from my father and considered that as one of my rights. Sometimes I would cry to prove myself, to make those show me love and to attract their attention. On that day I asked my father, offering him my help to mitigate and soothe his pains. I realized and comprehended there was a serious situation goin on when I saw my father carefully watching the television showing pictures of adults who were weeping too. For what and why were they crying? They were carrying a banner similar to a large handkerchief, wiping their tears with it. I was confused and bewildered. I was trying to ask in wonder about what was going on, but the sound of the question was getting broken under my breathing, and could not find an answer for my question of: “Why are adults weeping?”

I asked my father if he was complaining of a sort of pain and started to wipe his tears away from his eyes. In his response to my gesture he started hugging me and kissing me. Strange! My father could not find an answer for what was causing him to weep. I thought he might be experiencing financial strain as he used to apologize to me sometimes when I asked for my pocket money. Therefore I reached out for my safe, bringing it to him. He gazed at me with gratitude as if showing he was satisfied with what I had done!

My father had then realized my bewilderment in what I had seen and began to explain to me the whole situation with simple words suitable to my age, his words had inscribed in my heart the memory of that handkerchief which I did not realize nor recognize even in its colors. The only thing I knew then was that those adults were drying and wiping their tears with it. Then they began to unfold it. I also noticed that my mother's eyes too were full of tears, like the others. Long after my father's explanations I understood and knew that that banner was the “Flag of the Republic” and those people holding it were the leaders of Yemen whose hands had woven “my unity” which I have heard much about yet did not comprehend its meaning. My father told me, “Those were the tears of joy, my dear daughter!”

I asked him astonishingly if adult weep when they were happy, to which he replied, “Yes, they all shed tears of joy by wiping the tears of the past's sorrows and agonies. Then I wept as adults do. Nevertheless I will not wipe my tears so that they would water the path of my life. Tears of the adults have become a memory inscribed in my heart that has not known the translation of the tears of sorrow and joy! That was the 22 of May 1990.
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